


Lily of the Valley.

by BarPurple



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Language of Flowers, Magical Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1585388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every decade he visits the barrow to leave a single flower. One day he hopes to walk away with her by his side again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lily of the Valley.

The neighbourhood might be described by an estate agent as ‘A Developer’s Dream’. Everyone knows estate agents are flexible with the truth, but had one actually made this claim their pants would have spontaneously combusted. The charitable might have said the area hard fallen on hard times, but they would be woefully uninformed. This place had begun in hard times and sunk steadily into the mire of desperation.

This place had no purpose. It wasn’t on the way to somewhere. It was too out of the way to be convenient for anywhere. There had never been any industry that drove people to build here. Nothing of beauty or interest would ever entice tourists. In the past it only appeared on maps created by cartographers who had become embarrassingly lost. In the digital age Satnavs denied its existence.

And yet there were buildings here. A bizarre mishmash of relics from every era hunkered together provoking shivers of unease in those who strayed this way. A thick layer of dirty shame and despair enveloped the place. Hopes and dreams didn’t come here to die. This is where their broken remains were left to rot and fester.

That stench of good things broken and mouldering is exactly what drew certain beings to this place. It their own strange way the creatures of evil and shadow held this place in reverence. No hunts took place with into the boundaries. Rivalries and politics stayed outside the undefined line that separated In Here from Out There.

A thin mist hung in the pre-dawn light which made it hard to tell exactly where the man had appeared from. The classic elegance of his clothing made the town look more beggarly by comparison. A trick of the light made the buildings appear to cringe from the confident arrogance this man effortlessly projected. 

There were others roaming the crooked streets at this early hour. Individuals stepped aside as the man walked by and merged into small groups. The news of his presence spread through the town carried by whispers that mingled with the fog and lingered in the air. By the time the man reached his destination the fog was thick with not quite seen bodies and the whispers had built to a steady hiss. The man paused at the gate to the graveyard. Slowly he turned around to face the indistinct crowd. His eyes flashed and the whispers were silenced. Drinking in the fearful obedience Crowley let a small smile play across his face before moving through the open gate.

Graveyard; the word suggests hallowed ground and in this town that wasn’t something you’d find in any amount. Memorial Garden might be closer to the true. The stone markers that jutted like broken teeth from the ground bore the names of family members who had fallen to the hunter’s blade or flame. Some clans had carved the names of their dead into the bark of the trees. Gnarled old scars sat next to still weeping wounds twisting the trees in to agonised shapes.

Crowley walked past them all without giving any of them a second glance. His destination was a small barrow in the centre of the ground. In the side of the mound three grey stones formed a doorway a little taller than Crowley. A weathered granite slab served as the door, the marbled dark red veins gleamed angrily in the early dawn light. 

With tender care that would have surprised many who knew him, Crowley laid a red carnation on the ground by the door. He let out a shuddering sigh as his eyes scanned the flowers that clung to the stone. How he loathed those trumpet flowers. He stood lost in his memories of times so long since gone and tried to stop his mind torturing him with musings of what could have been. The sun finally breached the horizon and coloured the world with a faint blush of pinkish orange. Crowley shook himself out of his thoughts with a sniff and a roll of his shoulders. He was about to turn away when he spotted the new shoots pushing themselves up through the ground with obscene haste. As the new growth unfurled itself into the world the hated trumpet flowers began to wilt and crumble.

Had Crowley been human at this point he would have passed out. He didn’t breathe or move until the flowers bloomed. The ground was now covered with Lily of the Valley. There was a moment of tense anticipation as Crowley pulled the memory of the flowers meaning from the depths of his mind. The quiet of the dawn was ruptured as the King of Hell threw back his head and laughed long and loud.

The sound started a new whisper hissing around the town. Three simple words; that stirred unease in all who heard them; “She’s Coming Back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Red Carnation = my heart aches for you  
> Trumpet flowers = separation  
> Lily of the Valley = return of happiness
> 
> The inspiration for this piece came from this prompt http://putthepromptsonpaper.tumblr.com/post/84973752866/his-eyes-flashed-and-the-whispers-were-silenced
> 
> This wasn't what I had in mind when I started, but now I think this will be the start of an AU story for Crowley.
> 
> As always comments and kudos are as vital as a good cuppa. Thanks for reading :)


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